Over it. A Guide to Speed Healing.

July 28, 2017

One of my girls posted the following…
I don’t know where my boyfriend is.
He’s just not answering any of my phone calls or texts all of a sudden, I didn’t know where he is, I still don’t. I’ve been worried all night. I wish he would just tell me what’s going on and not keep me in limbo. I feel sick to my stomach and haven’t slept….
So…fuck I feel pretty shitty. Not knowing is the worst and keeps me up.

PIC commented
If you don’t know where he is, he’s not your boyfriend.

PIC has this uncanny ability to cut through bullshit with a magical machete.

There is a backstory here. The boyfriend of the girl who posted this is a bonafide piece of shit. This has been going on forever. They’re either fucking or fighting, he keeps a revolving roster of girlfriends that he is either fucking with or fighting with.

She will quit him when she is ready and not a minute sooner.

It is the way of the world.

Me personally?

My ‘not’ boyfriend?

After 5 days and now 3 blog posts.

I am over it.

I sat in my grief and knew from experience that at some point in time, I’d be over it. So I just decided that time would be now. Or in truth, Wednesday night around 8:14pm after a hit of Charlotte’s Web weed. That shit is like a magic eraser for those nagging voices of self-doubt. I got the giggles and it turned off that chattering of voices that were screaming ‘you weren’t good enough to be the actual girlfriend’.

So fucking what? Look what he did to his actual girlfriend. Bullet dodged.

I’d settled into a bed of lies and deemed it fine.

In retrospect it wasn’t fine.

No one mourns the loss of a tumor. You cut that shit out, keep the wound clean and go on living.

Honestly, I am fine now.

No amount of wishing or regret or pain is going to make him into something he isn’t

He’s not my person and he never was.

Grief doesn’t have to be a process, and suffering is optional.

A male reaction to my last post…

Yeah if a guy doesn’t have the balls to be honest with either girl up front like an adult… then he doesn’t have the balls to deal with his own conscious telling him this is wrong every day. Because every day he’s asking himself, how can “I” keep this going? He knows he can’t, yet he expects or assumes that since he’s gotten away with it so far that he’s favored and is drawn into the addiction of letting fate work it out for him. At this point he’s so far stuck up his own ass, that he’s forgotten just how much he’s also affecting the lives of two other people. This is where pride becomes a sin.

Is it pride?
Pride alone?
Greed, gluttony and lust are in there too.

I have my own pride driven thoughts about what happened too.

I kinda get it.

If I had access to fuck me, I wouldn’t say no either.

And I know I wasn’t myself with him. Too submissive.

I am beautiful, kind, loving and understanding. I made no demands of him whatsoever and never fought with him.

She’s a fighter and has every right to be.

He used to be so strict with me about no conflict, but he also chose to with the one who fought with him.

Men say they want peace but I don’t think they know what that word means.

Goes back to the dead deer analogy…

Men will sit in a tree, sweating, getting eaten alive by mosquitoes, sleep in a tent on the hard ground for a week just for the chance to shoot a deer. And if the get one they gloat and show it off like they found the grail and their dick grew 5 times its regular size.

Put that exact same deer on their doorstep dead and they want nothing to do with it.

Hunting instinct.

Ladies, don’t be a dead deer on a doorstep.
(Sherry Argov)

He asked me to send him detailed lists as to why I liked him.

And I did it, even on that last day around 1pm I did it.

I know what it’s like to be torn down, so I build others up.

He never returned the favor.

When you add the truth and subtract the lies, he wasn’t a terribly good boyfriend.

I bought all the excuses as to why he couldn’t see me, reveled in the constant daily attention I did get via text and IG and just assumed he had gotten hurt in the time called before so his heart was guarded.

In light of recent revelations, I don’t fucking care.


His behavior is in my wheelhouse of things I’ve been through and he knew it, and he done did the exact same thing to me anyways.

I had a moment on the porch with Panda, we were smoking, and the loop in my head was ‘I can’t ever talk to him again’ in waves, just pounding at my psyche threatening to tear my sanity apart.

I said it out loud and she said “I know”.

For a minute there my angst became a sharpened dart aimed at her.

How could she be so flippant about my horrible truth that I was barely brave enough to admit out loud much less accept in any way? I was still bargaining then, ‘well maybe if he…’

But there are no words in any language that can atone for this, and I know it. She knows it. Everybody knows.

Here is the upside.

I get to wake up in the morning and be me.

He has to wake up and be him.

I cannot imagine how insecure someone has to be to be that dishonest with two women who loved him sincerely.

I get it. He has that high school jock/bully mentality wherein he takes what he wants without consequences. But high school was 10 years ago and there is a thickening occurring around his middle and a thinning occurring up top. He has another 2 or 3 years where he is cute enough to get away with this shit, and I think he knows it. That former glory he clings to is fading.

I don’t wish him any harm. However, for his sake, because I did care about him once. I wish to bestow the gift of self-awareness and honest reflection.

What better place than here, what better time than now. RATM

This too shall pass, it always does.

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  • Matthew Eayre July 28, 2017 at 1:29 pm

    the past is a story we tell ourselves, I keep repeating this internally and hoping that it will become true enough to wipe away how I feel about the past.
    I have a near-perfect memory, and in that clarity I have one memory that keeps me looking forward.

    Ruane looked me in my eyes and said,
    “Enough of this shit, Matt. You’re killing yourself trying to make sense of what other people have done to you, and terrified of what they will do. It’s not up to them. It’s up to you, grab your heart(*) and fucking walk. Live today. You don’t have to live your whole life every day, just today. ”

    (*She said balls, but I feel more courage from my heart)

    Just another way of saying what everyone says, live now. For some reason it shook my walls enough to matter.
    So I keep singing my song,
    “The past is a story I tell myself,
    Only a story I tell myself”
    And I choose to tell stories that make me feel better about life.

    • sexloveandgrace July 29, 2017 at 9:04 am

      the thing here is my ‘past’ was all a lie concocted by a greedy little boy who was scared to be alone. so it’s not mine.
      i forgive myself for not knowing.
      had i been paranoid or stood up for myself or both, it could have been amended much sooner, but i wasn’t and it wasn’t.
      paranoia sucks. i think next time i will just stand my ground and make sure its actually mine.

      • Matthew Eayre July 29, 2017 at 12:04 pm

        from my perspective you either have the worst luck imaginable or you choose bad ideas and try to make them good.
        Absolutely stand your ground. Look for something different. Find some different path to what you want.
        Something about history, and doom, and repeating.

        • sexloveandgrace July 29, 2017 at 12:49 pm

          i have fantastic luck. i also sugar coat everything i touch. whoops, mayhap i am not meant to be willy wonka

          • Matthew Eayre July 29, 2017 at 10:43 pm

            Be you. Don’t settle

          • sexloveandgrace July 31, 2017 at 10:30 am

            easy for you to say. you live with the love of your life. i am still floating alone.

          • Matthew Eayre July 31, 2017 at 2:51 pm

            You’re right, that was unfair for me to say. I spent a long time alone before getting it right. I had a lot of chances to commit or to settle, and every time I walked away. Because it wasn’t right. I could see that my conditions weren’t being met, and I chose loneliness over the bed that wasn’t quite right.
            I’m not qualified to give advice, and that’s not what I’m trying to do. I guess I’m just ready to see you tell the story about actually finding the right one. About actually being happy. I want it for you, Sister Sarah. Underneath my raw and troubled exterior, I’m an optimist.

          • sexloveandgrace August 1, 2017 at 9:12 am

            that was meant in a kinder tone than it sounded. i am 43 and maybe losing hope isn’t a bad thing.

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